I Said Yes

by Kiersten Modglin

  It was completely professional, though I searched for any kind of innuendo to no avail. If there was something going on between them, it wasn’t made obvious in this email.

  At the bottom, my eyes lit up. Under her name was her title, Legal Assistant, and her phone numbers, both office and cell. I grabbed a sticky note and wrote her cell down before closing out of his email and leaving the office, careful to step over the broken glass with care.

  I’d clean it up later. I needed answers, and they couldn’t wait.

  My phone was in my purse on the bench in the entryway. I pulled it out and typed in her number, pressing it to my ear as it began to ring. When she answered, her voice was apprehensive.

  “H-hello?”

  “McKenna?”

  “Who is this?” she asked.

  “It’s…it’s Hannah Oliver.”

  “Oh,” she said quietly, but didn’t bother to go on any further.

  “I’m sorry I blew you off at the store.”

  “I can’t say I blame you.”

  “I want to hear what happened. Mark’s telling me something different, but I want to hear your version.”

  “Why? So you can call me a liar again?”

  “Are you lying?”

  “Of course not,” she said, her voice breaking already. “I don’t understand how anyone could lie about something like this.”

  “Then tell me the truth, and I promise to hear you out.”

  “Does Mark know we’re talking?” she asked.

  “No, and he doesn’t have to.” She was quiet for a minute, and I had to check the screen to make sure she hadn’t hung up on me. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want, but maybe I can help you if I know the whole story.”

  “How could you help me?”

  I sucked in a breath. “I don’t know.” Suddenly, I could feel tears in my own eyes, though I hadn’t anticipated their arrival.

  “Hannah?” she whispered, and I pressed the phone to my ear harder. “Has he ever hurt you?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I heard her sniffle. “Were you two having an affair?”

  I just knew she was going to say no, but when her actual answer came, it took my breath away. “We’d slept together once before. Over the summer. We were working late and…it just sort of happened. I’m sorry.” She was crying already, and it made it hard to understand her words, but I knew what she said. Somehow, it didn’t shock me as much as I’d expected. I gritted my teeth but didn’t respond.

  “Mark was always…he was nice to me. Most of the other lawyers at the firm ignore us. The interns, I mean. Except when they need us to run errands. But Mark would joke around with us, make us feel included. When he started asking me to stay late and help him with a few cases, I thought it was because he thought I was good at my job. Law fascinates me. I could never afford to go to law school; I’m already drowning in student debt, so being able to work for Lyman and Associates is the closest I’ve ever gotten to having a dream come true. I would never jeopardize that by forming a relationship with one of my bosses.”

  “But you did.”

  “I didn’t. Honestly, it was one stupid night. We both agreed it was a mistake and it wouldn’t happen again. I even went to Mr. Lyman and Mr. Greenberg to tell them. I didn’t want it to ever come out and jeopardize anything for me, so I thought the best thing was to be upfront and honest. I’ll be honest, though, I thought they might fire me.”

  I clenched my fist, wishing they would have. How could Mark have lied to me? How could he have betrayed me?

  “It’s been months since I’ve worked that closely with Mark,” she went on. “Things were…awkward, at best. Then about a month ago, we were working together again and we had to leave the office to meet a client. I thought we were going to be able to get past it. I wasn’t going to bring it up if he didn’t, you know? But then at dinner he had a few drinks and he started making comments about me to the client. About what I was wearing and how good I smelled. It was so unprofessional, and I was mortified. Honestly, I just wanted to leave, but I tried to sit through it, tried to salvage all that he was wrecking. When we left, I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to tell him I was going to report him to his bosses. To tell him that I was going to sue him for sexual harassment if he didn’t stop, but I couldn’t. I knew if I started talking, I’d lose it. I needed to hold it together. He called me a slut, told me I knew I wanted him. The truth is…I have a past. I’m not perfect, but I’ve tried so hard to repair it since I graduated. I didn’t want him. I wanted nothing to do with him after the way I’d seen him behave. He was trashed. I kept trying to take the keys, because I knew he didn’t need to drive in his condition, and as much as I wanted to get far away from him, I didn’t want him to get hurt.” She sucked in a breathless cry. “I never thought he’d hurt me, though, you know? I took him back to the office and went inside to get my keys. It was only a little after four, so people should’ve still been there, but the office was empty. I went straight to my cubicle to get my stuff and he—he grabbed me. He pulled up my skirt and I, I just couldn’t move. I froze. I should’ve fought back. I should’ve told him to stop, but…he’s my boss, you know? It sounds silly, I guess, but I kept trying to convince myself it wasn’t happening. Like, maybe he was grabbing my leg because I had something on it. I don’t know. Even saying it out loud sounds stupid. But…it was over quickly.” A bitter laugh escaped her throat. “At least I can say that about him, he wasted no time. It was kind of a blur, but I just keep…flashing back to it.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to picture my husband that way, wild and rabid. It hurt me to think of him with another woman at all, but to think of him like that…I don’t think there’s anything worse.

  “Anyway, he left in a hurry. He told me nothing happened. I was crying on the floor, with my knees to my chest in front of my desk afterward, while he was buttoning his pants. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t catch my breath, and he looked down at me and said ‘nothing happened, quit crying.’ Like I was a child who’d fallen down. Like I was being dramatic. Then, before he walked out of the door, he stopped and looked back at me one last time and said ‘they won’t believe you, if you tell anyone. They won’t believe you because you’ve already told them we fucked.’ And that was it. He left, and I cried on the floor until I couldn’t cry anymore. Then, I got up and left. The next day, I tried to decide what to do…but I was so upset still. I wasn’t sure I could work with him. I considered leaving, but how fair was that, you know? I’d worked so hard to get where I was. So, I told Lyman first. He suspended Mark for two weeks—”

  “Yes, Mark’s told me that’s why he’s off, but he told me the partners are handling it. What exactly’s being done?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “This was…this happened months ago, Hannah. He was suspended before, but Mark’s been fired now. He’s probably going to be arrested soon.”

  I was sure I had dropped the phone, though I could still feel the plastic case in my hand. “A-arrested?”

  “He was off for two weeks while they investigated. Then he came back for a bit, while Lyman gave me the choice of how to handle it. I’m sorry, Hannah, I…I didn’t mean to hurt you, but he has to pay for what he’s done to me.”

  Suspended for two weeks several months ago. I tried to think back. The car crash. The day he was so drunk he wrecked his car. “He told me he called in those two weeks.”

  “No,” she said softly. “He’s a liar, Hannah. He fooled us all.”

  “And he’s fired now?” I placed a hand to my chest, feeling the racing heartbeat beneath my fingertips.

  “As of a week ago, yes—oh, hang on just a second.” I heard a noise through the phone line and heard a click as she must’ve set it down. I wasn’t really listening as I heard noises in the background, muffled and underwater. I sank down on the couch behind me, my knees hardly able to hold my weight anymore. What was I going to do?

  “…Mark…” The s
ound of McKenna saying my husband’s name brought me back to reality, and I pressed my ear into the phone. I could hear McKenna’s voice, high-pitched and filled with fear. There was a man’s voice, too, but I couldn’t make it out. What had she set the phone on?

  I put one finger in my opposite ear, willing the noises to become clearer. Just then, I heard a loud CRACK, a scream cut short, and a thud. Then, silence.

  A few moments later, the door shut again, and I fell to the ground, one shaking hand over my mouth as tears filled my eyes.

  McKenna never came back to the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Her

  After the initial shock wore off, I stood from the floor. I still wasn’t sure what I heard, but I could venture a guess. I’d never heard a gunshot in real life, only on the movies, but this was as close as I could imagine.

  She’d said Mark.

  She’d said his name.

  But was he really there?

  Maybe she was just talking about him, I couldn’t know. Was she even dead? I considered calling the police straight away, but all I wanted to do was get out of that house first. Before he made it home. I needed to get away.

  I grabbed a suitcase from the closet, throwing things into it as quickly as I could pull them from the closet. Where was my phone charger? What shoes would I need? I couldn’t move fast enough as I darted around the room, my body convulsing with adrenaline. I hurried across the hall to grab my toothbrush. Where would I go? My parents’ house was the obvious choice, but did I want to bring them into this mess? They were innocent in all of this. What if it put them in danger? I would figure it all out when I was safe, but at that moment, I just needed to get as far away from my husband as possible.

  I darted down the stairs with the tiny suitcase in hand and slipped on the shoes next to the door. There was so much I was leaving behind—my baby book, a collection of figurines that had been handed down from my grandmother—but I couldn’t stop to worry. I had no idea where McKenna lived and, therefore, no idea how much time I had.

  I grabbed my keys from the basket on the bench in the entryway and pulled open the front door.

  “Going somewhere?” Mark stood in the doorway, whiskey bottle in his hand. I jumped back, trying to shield myself from him as he entered the house. My heart thudded so loudly I could hardly think as I watched his hands, searching for the gun. Would he have already gotten rid of it? Could he see my thoughts plain as day on my face? Was the guilt of all that I knew written in my expression? “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the bag in my hand. “You’re really leaving?”

  “I just…I’m going to my parents’ for a few days. To clear my head.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” he said, reaching for my arm.

  I pulled out of his grasp. “Let go of me, Mark.” My attitude seemed to set him off, and he stepped in front of the door, unmoving as I attempted to push him out of the way. My tears were futile, my hands tiring of pulling against his weight as I tried to move him. “Please,” I begged. “Please let me go.”

  When he touched me, I couldn’t help seeing his hands on McKenna’s body, holding her down. I curled my lip, shoving forward with one last attempt. He grabbed hold of me, lifting me and taking me into the living room. He sat down on the couch with me on his lap, his jaw tight. “Sit still,” he instructed, fighting against me.

  “Let me go, let me go, let me go!” I screamed, no longer caring about pretenses. I needed to get out before he killed me. It was me or him, and I had a feeling only one of us would walk out of that room alive.

  His arms tightened around me until I could hardly lift my upper arms, making all attempts to get away useless. “This is pathetic, Hannah. Stop it. You aren’t leaving.”

  I opened my mouth, letting out a guttural scream until he clamped his hand over my mouth, pressing in so hard I was sure my teeth were going to break off. I tasted my own blood from the pressure. He spoke through gritted teeth.

  “Shut the hell up before someone calls the police.”

  “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” I sneered as he removed his hand, wriggling my shoulders again to try and escape his grasp.

  “Excuse me?” he demanded, turning me around so quickly I fell from his lap. I landed on the hardwood with a thud, my shoulder taking the brunt of the fall.

  I scooted across the floor as fast as I could, trying to stand up. He was quicker, though, lifting me up once again. He squeezed my body in a forceful hug until I cried out.

  “Stop trying to leave. Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Why are you making me this way?”

  “I just want to go,” I told him, hanging my head down. He pressed his forehead into mine so hard I was sure I’d have a bruise.

  “I can’t be without you, don’t you get that?”

  “Just…kill me if you’re going to kill me,” I cried, my whole body stiff in his arms.

  His grip loosened slightly, and he looked at me as if I was going insane. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to kill you, Hannah. You’re my wife. I love you.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it,” I spat. “You don’t hurt the people you love.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to stay with me so we can talk this through. Things are stressful right now, I know, but we love each other, don’t we? We can figure this out.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  His face was panicked as he stared at me, our eyes locked together. “Fine?” he asked. “You’ll stay?”

  “You aren’t giving me a choice.”

  “You’re being irrational,” he said. “You’re upset, I get it. I would be, too. But you can’t just walk away from me. Not because of this. Not because of her.”

  I felt as though I was going to be sick at the careless way he could bring her up. “What did you do to her, Mark?” I’m not sure why I asked. I already knew, and I suspected what his response would be, but the question was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  His blue eyes—eyes I’d loved and looked into so many times before—grew dark, the creases around them becoming more defined. I watched his hand rise, the long fingers I’d held at the altar not so long ago balling into a fist. I saw the blow coming, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  THWACK.

  Darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Her

  When I came to, I was lying on our bed in the darkness. I lay as still as possible, not daring to breathe too loudly. I listened carefully for him to make a sound, knowing he must be lying in wait somewhere.

  After a moment, I moved my hand across the comforter toward his side of the bed, a few inches every ten seconds or so. I waited for my fingertips to feel the covers rising to cover his body, but he wasn’t there. With bated breath, I turned my head ever so slightly, looking toward his side of the room. When I was sure he wasn’t in bed with me, I looked to the other side.

  The room was eerily silent except for the sound of my own heartbeat. I waited.

  Waited.

  Waited.

  Waited.

  Nothing. If he was there, he was being incredibly silent. I reached my hands across the room and toward the nightstand where my phone should be. If I could find it, I could call 911 and wait for their rescue in the solace of my bedroom.

  Of course, as evil as I was discovering my husband was, I could never accuse him of being stupid. My hand fumbled across the bare nightstand, connecting only with the lamp.

  With no other choice, I sat up in bed, sliding my feet out from under the covers with trepidation. I pictured him launching out from under the bed, grabbing my feet like some wild boogeyman, but to my relief, they connected with the carpet without incident, and I stood, my head ringing slightly. I pressed my fingers to my temple, jerking my head back when they connected with what I assumed would be a huge bruise in the light of day.

&n
bsp; I looked around the dark room, considering my options. I could pretend to stay asleep, but that would eventually do me no good. I couldn’t sleep forever, and who knew what Mark had planned. Would my fate be the same as McKenna’s? I couldn’t try to escape out our third story bedroom window, so without a phone, I didn’t see many choices. I walked across the bedroom, careful not to let my footsteps make any noise. When my outstretched hands met the door, I swallowed, preparing myself for whatever may lay outside that door. I wouldn’t go down without a fight, I promised myself that. If this was how it ended, I hoped and prayed he’d get rid of my body so my parents wouldn’t have to see what had become of me.

  I opened the door swiftly, stepping out into the hall. I looked right, then left, letting out a relieved breath when I saw no one. I pressed my body against the wall, sliding carefully down until I reached the staircase. I looked across the main floor, searching for him. A man I’d loved, who I was now sure wanted to kill me. If it came down to it, me or him, would I be able to make the decision? End his life if it meant saving mine? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t even want to think about it.

  I could hear something.

  Rubbing.

  Scrubbing.

  I closed my eyes, listening closely. The sound was coming from my right. If I had to guess, I believed my husband was in the living room. I heard the clamor of glass bottles. Another guess, he was drinking.

  Suddenly, I had an idea. It was a long shot, but it could work.

  I hurried back down the hall, keeping my footsteps quiet. When I reached the bathroom, I darted across the linoleum, flipping on the dim light above the sink and opening the cabinets.

  Where was it? Where was it? I searched for the purple bottle, praying I hadn’t thrown it away during the move. Just as I was about to give up hope, I spotted it.

  The small, purple bottle sat on the top shelf, behind my menstrual relief medicine. I turned it around, reading the label: Take one tablet before bed as needed to induce sleep.